The Greatest Man That Ever Lived
by againstscout
Summary: Between being part of one of the most famous bands in the world and touring with a certain Russian that he hates with all his being, it's not hard to get a bit stressed. And acquire an eating disorder. And fall in love with said hated Russian. AU RUS/USA
1. Chapter 1

I disclaim this masterpiece called Hetalia with a heavy heart and a frown upon my face. I really do.  
_Really._

Ivan/Alfred ensues in this fanfiction. that means homosexual acts. and sexy time. Aww, yeah.

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**the greatest man that ever lived  
chapter one**

"_Of Fighter Jets _has been a huge hit with the recent release of their new single, _Cold War_, which hit the top of the Alternative music charts this month! How do you guys feel about this amazing feat?""It's fucking AWESOME," Alfred exclaimed with loud enthusiasm, "Just three years ago I thought we were the shittiest band ever!" the statement had earned the young American a slap in the back of his head by an embarrassed Arthur.

"Shut up, you stupid git! Who says that about their own music?"

"Whoa, British dude! Calm down, I was just saying!" The reporter cleared her throat loudly, attempting a polite smile at the riled up band mates.

"Story goes that you first all started posting your work on a video blog site that also allows you to have live video sessions with other users. Not long after you and your band mates because one of the biggest internet sensations in America."

"That's right!" Alfred put him arm around his brother's shoulders, leaning against him. "It was little Mattie's idea!" Matthew's eyes lit up at being addressed, smiling widely at the camera.

"Who?" the reporter tilted her head.

Matthew's smile dropped, whilst Alfred's expression grew just as confused as hers. He tilted his head slightly, shifting his eyes from one person to the other. He quickly shot a nervous glance at the camera, giving it a nervous grin.

"My... brother... the.. Bassist?""Oh. Right," she flashed a large smile in Matthew's direction, looking sheepish but not at all apologizing.

Matthew glared at her, unnoticed.

"Now, throughout your recent album release, your music genre seems to subtly change with each track. Can you explain that?"

"Well, duh! Artie, Mattie and I are completely different people when it comes down to it. To appease each other, we all take turns writing songs. It's fun, I guess," Alfred laughed obnoxiously, slapping the Brit on the back when he muttered something insulting.

The reporter giggled at the band mates, giving both Alfred and Arthur a flirty smile.

"Last question, promise," she fluttered her eyelashes at the oldest band member, biting her lip. Arthur blushed lightly, giving her what he hoped was a charming smile.

"Man, Arthur looks like a complete retard," Alfred whispered to his younger brother, pulling him close with his arm and laughing. Matthew stayed quiet, looking away from the taller male.

Arthur stepped on the young American's foot, his smile twitching with irritation.

"How do you feel, now that you've earned a contract to travel the world and tour with the experimental music sensation who calls himself _Russia_?"

Arthur froze when he felt Alfred stiffen beside him, his aura taking a complete one-eighty.

"We're…. what?"

"You see…"

"What the fuck did she just say?"

"Now, Alfred."

"_Turn off the fucking camera_."

"You see, Alfred didn't know of that _simple_ fact, for the reason that he and the Ru-"

"That guy's a fucking _commie_-"

The reporter gave Alfred a sly smile, motioning for the camera man to stop young Hungarian reporter giggled quietly, thanking the young band for their time, trying to hide her devious smile as she made her way towards the exit of the posh hotel conference room, saying her last goodbyes to the completely different band mates that made up _Of Fighter Jets._

_

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_

The next chapter and the ones following will definitely be a lot longer than this.  
I, simply, just got lazy.  
Derp._  
_


	2. Chapter 2

hey, so, it's been a while and I have this situation. I can't choose what to change this story title too, because the current one is just temporary.  
choices: **Nightlife**, **Outshined**, or **Last Chance**?

I'm sorry for the long wait, I hope this chapter makes up for it.**  
**

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**the greatest man that ever lived  
chapter 2  
**

"Man, I feel like a fucking retard," Alfred said, staring at the screen of his laptop. "I can't believe she put that shit online."

"If it's any consolation," Matthew mumbled, staring down at his bass guitar, "you are a fucking retard."

The Canadian looked up and smiled. Alfred simply flipped him off, scrolling down the page.

"Seriously, man, listen," Alfred cleared his throat and sat up, making his voice pitch a little higher than normal. "_The American's eyes were burning with barely-hidden remorse and sadness at the mention of the Russian sensation; his face was red with embarrassment as he thought back to_- I can't even read this shit anymore."

Matthew's laugh was hardy as he rolled over and stole his brother's computer. "She'd make a killing writing romance novels, I'm sure," he said, scrolling down and reading the rest of the article. "This thing has more about you and your stupid reaction to Braginsky than our music."

Alfred, head shoved under his pillow, made an animalistic noise.

"I know," Matthew patted the American's shoulder, smirking. Scrolling down to the end, the Canadian spotted a few links. "Did you click on the links at the end?"

Alfred threw his pillow back immediately and crawled over to his brother's side. "Links?" Alfred echoed. "No, no I haven't, what the fuck, why are there links?"

Matthew shoved the American away, grumbling. "Stop it, I'm clickin- _oh_."

"Oh?" Alfred shimmied back towards his brother and looked at the screen.

The American paused, his breath hitching as he looked at the pictures on the screen.

"_How did she get those_?"

.

Alfred was absolutely murderous.

"How the _fuck_ did she get those, you stupid German _fuck_?" The American had Gilbert in a headlock and was jostling him around more than necessary. "_Tell me_."

"Ich weiss nicht! Sheisse! Bitte! Ich- _I don't know, you stupid fuck_!" Gilbert yelled, alternating from German to English. "Williams, why aren't - agh, fuck, _stop_ – you – _fuck_ – helping me?"

"Those pictures being out there have a chance of ruining our reputation," Matthew explained, watching as his brother manhandled the German. "And, Al's my brother. He's kind of upset."

Gilbert made a sound of indignation. "Those fucking – _stop it, you animalistic excuse for a human –_pictures are – _really, Jones? – _years old!"

Alfred suddenly threw the older man to the floor, quickly putting his foot lightly on the German's crotch. "I'll step on your ballsack," he threatened. "Don't think I won't."

Gilbert wimpered.

"All we want to know," Matthew crouched down, putting a hand on the German's chest. "Is where she acquired those God-awful pictures of Al and Braginsky."

The older man let out a long breathe, staring at the two brothers. "You guys act like fucking 1930-Gangsters."

The twins smiled at the same time, showing too much teeth.

Gilbert cleared his throat. "They were on my Facebook," he confessed. "I actually forgot about them, to be honest. But I guess anyone can see them. It was _years_ ago, guys. We were all close," the male lifted his arms to air-quote the word 'close'. Alfred frowned.

"When?" He asked.

"You were nineteen," Gilbert answered. "Braginsky was twenty-three."

"Yeah, I know that," Alfred snapped. Matthew made a face.

"You dated a guy five years older than you?" the Canadian asked.

"Shut up," was Alfred's only reply as he walked out of Gilbert's flat. Matthew waved a quick goodbye before following his twin.

.

"You're a fucking _twat_, you know that?" Arthur said, staring at the pictures on the screen of Alfred's laptop. "Look at this - You're practically straddling his, his _hand_ on your _arse_, kissing your _neck_, while you hold both a cigarette and a bottle of beer _in one hand_."

"Yes, Arthur, _I know that_," Alfred replied, glaring at the Englishman. "Now please stop _reminding_ me."

"If you didn't flip a complete shit," Arthur continued. "those photos would have never _surfaced_ and you would have never had to go and _attack_ Ludwig's older brother."

"Yes, Arthur, I understand that," Alfred shut his laptop with more force than necessary. "I hope _you_ understand that I was also maybe – just a _bit - _ hurt, with this entire situation."

Arthur frowned at the confession. "It was years ago."

"That doesn't make it any less sucky," Alfred sulked, looking down at his drumset and tapping a simple beat.

"Do you want some takeout?" Arthur asked after a few moments of silence. Alfred shook his head.

"M'not hungry, but thanks anyway," Alfred gave the Englishman a weak grin. "Let's practice, huh?"

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review, favourite, etc.  
hope you enjoyed! cheers


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